


Legendary

by rneira (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, OOH WOW CREATIVE TITLE, also have I mentioned I love the Jehanna crew???? so much ????, decided to keep this one short and simple, fefemslashweek2016, my favs....., school started back up and Im exhausted, sorry this is so short lmao, this is also my fav f/f pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rneira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Marisa's eyes, they weren't legendary. /She/ was the legend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legendary

When Gerik's Mercenaries and their new king returned to Jehanna, they were celebrated in song and story. They were legendary.

Of course, all of them had earned it, more than they would've ever expected to. But Marisa felt some of that celebratory praise was misplaced, mostly on herself. She didn't deny praise when it was given, she didn't feel unworthy of it. Not at all. Instead, she was rather disappointed to see the praise dumped so heavily on the warriors of their group; the ever powerful Gerik, the myrmidon herself, their new king, even Ewan was viewed rather highly, a prodigy. And while word spread of the dancer who made her way through war, and she had more fans than ever (if not through pure novelty than her talent, this upset Marisa further), Tethys remained relatively in the dark beside them.

Tethys didn't seem to mind it, but Marisa did. She wasn't sure why, but she did.

They fought in a war, yes. They, alongside their countless other peers, saved Magvel, yes. They defeated and sealed the Demon King, yes. But they were already born to fight, trained to fight, with long years of blood and battle stained into their past. But not Tethys. She may have been used to seeing bloodshed, spending her life with mercenaries. But she'd never fought, never hurt another. And yet, in war, when that was all you could do, she came out victorious. Did that not make her all the more legendary?

A woman who was abandoned and raised a toddler brother by herself. A woman who danced her feet raw and scarred to feed herself. A woman with no fighting experience who courageously threw herself into a battlefield, not to fight, but to dance. She who weaved and ducked through blades and arrows, knowing any moment, she could be struck and die. That her life could end, on that battlefield, corpse as red as her hair with dancing clothes on and all. But she supposed Tethys wouldn't mind such a poetic death.

During the war, dancing was not her only duty. Marisa watched as she took it upon herself to raise morale, to keep spirits high and eyes hopeful. Marisa didn't know how she did it, with the sorrows of others so heavy on her back and her slippers becoming worn to the sole. She'd seen Tethys close to breaking once, almost twice. But she never faltered, her smile never wavered. Marisa asked how she did it, how she could manage. There wasn't any reasons to smile in times of war, not that she could see.

"When I was growing up, I always had to smile. If I cried, Ewan cried. If I was happy, he was happy. And I wanted him to be happy as much as possible." Tethys giggled. "When they see others filled with hope, they become hopeful, and it spreads like gossip. Isn't it wonderful?"

  
And she meant it. She watched as Tethys cheered people on with her enthusiasm and hope, comforted with her wisdom and hospitality, and brought the army together and revived wary bodies through her sways of her hips and flutters of rich fabric. In a way, Marisa envied her. Tethys could fight, but not with a blade or bow. Her strength came from within, not swords by bedsides. Her face radiated warmth, not cold stoicism. With words and feelings, she carried an entire army through the war. And never once did she frown. Never once did she cry. Never once did she give up.

In Marisa's eyes, they weren't legendary. _She_ was the legend. The woman who danced through war, through the end of the world with a smile on her face. And she wouldn't prefer anyone else at her side.


End file.
